“They were here last night!”
“After all the work you’ve done. What did they do this time?”
“They dug up the grass! Again!”
I led my wife to the backyard where the damage was plain to see. Mounds of overturned soil, piles of kicked-up earth where a lawn of thick green grass used to be.
“It’s worse than last time,” she noted.
“Much worse.”
What more could I do? I had installed a chain-link fence around the perimeter, but this hadn’t served as a strong enough barrier. I had reinforced the fence, added additional metal stakes at regular intervals. This did not stop them. I weighted down the fencing and secured the stakes with solid bases.This effort had failed as well.
Boars. Wild boars determined to go on a rampage in my garden.
“Strange that they’re only trampling the grass. They never eat the flowers or the bushes.”
“They’re going for water,” I explained. The upturned earth ran in nearly
parallel lines above the buried irrigation tubing. Grass destroyed in a surprisingly neat pattern.
“How many are there?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I have never actually seen them.”
Read the rest of the story on Across the Margin.
Stuffed boar as seen at the Steinhardt Museum of Natural History.
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